


Nightmare [OTP Prompt]

by resonatingkitty



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, domestic!wybrose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonatingkitty/pseuds/resonatingkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bray has a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare [OTP Prompt]

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post from my tumblr, resonating-kitty(dot)tumblr(dot)com.
> 
> OTP Prompt: Imagine Person A having a nightmare about something terrible happening to Person B, but then waking up to find Person B sleeping peacefully beside them. They then snuggle up closer.
> 
> Story takes place around the time Bray and the fam was feuding with Taker.

He, Bray Wyatt, had done it. He had won. Everyone had proclaimed that he would end up like all the others who had been in his place but he had proven them all to be liars. He had successfully dethroned the mighty Undertaker and he was now the new ruler of darkness. And here he stood now in hell in the Undertaker’s throne room. Before him was the beginning of the staircase that lead up to the throne. Around him hell fires burned, lighting the room in a dim light that allowed one to see. Bray would hear the cries of the souls outside the room, the sound sorrowful as if they mourned the Undertaker’s fall. It was music to his ears and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he began to ascend the stairs to _his_ throne. 

The throne of the Undertaker was a true sight to behold. It stood, tall and completely black in the center of the room. An ominous air hung about it that seemed to promise ill fate to anyone who would dare to mess with it. Bray stood at the top of the stairs admiring it for a moment. He laughs when his eyes landed on the back of the throne. The Undertaker’s symbol was carved there. Perhaps he’d leave it there, as a sign of his victory. He’d ponder it later but for now he was done waiting. It was time to claim what now belonged to him. He approached the throne and sat. He rested his arms on the arm rests and leaned back. The cold smooth stone made his skin tingle, bringing a grin to his face. He tilts his head back, eyes closed. Oh how easily his victory had been. How sweet it had felt to deliver the final blow in the form of a Sister Abigail to the worn down Deadman. After the three count, how tasteful it had been to feel the new power coursing through his veins.

Bray’s head snaps forward as a cold chill falls over the room. The once vigorously raging hell fires died down to small flickering flames. Even the cries of the souls outside had grown silent. It was an effect only one being could generate. Movement at the bottom of the staircase catches his eye and confirmed what he already knew just as the Undertaker stepped from the shadows. He was clad in his cloak and he was alone.

“Deadman!” Bray calls, grinning as he stares down from where he sat on the edge of the throne, “welcome! Tell me, have you come to pay homage to the new ruler of darkness?” He stands and outstretches his arms, palms facing outwards. His eyes do not waver from the being standing at the bottom of the steps but he feels Erick, Luke, and Braun materialize from the shadows behind him. He leads them, starting a slow descend down the stairs toward the Undertaker, who still hadn’t moved. “You’re not going to say anything Deadman? I’m hurt.”

The Undertaker moves when they are about halfway down the stairs. His cloak opens to reveal a soul floating between his hands. The sight of the soul stops Bray in his tracks. Blue eyes widen. That soul. It shown with a brightness that Bray would recognize anywhere. It was a soul that Bray knew very well. One that he’d spent countless nights admiring. He’d even tried to compare its brightness to the sun once but found that the sun was just not bright enough to even contend. Furthermore it was a soul that belonged to him. It was the soul of Dean Ambrose.

“Little lamb,” the words tumble from Bray’s lips, his eyes now locked on the soul. His earlier cocky demeanor is gone, shattered to pieces with the play that the Undertaker had just made. Dean’s soul responds to the sound of his voice and Bray can feel as well as hear Dean call out for him. With every last ounce of his willpower, Bray forces his eyes from the flickering soul back to the Undertaker’s face. The Deadman is smirking and it is a look that has never failed to spell disaster for whomever it is directed at.

“You may have won,” He speaks at last, his voice booming and loud despite the room being quite large and spacious, “but in the end Bray Wyatt,” a chill goes through Bray as Dean’s soul is lifted up. The Undertaker’s eyes are practically glowing green as they regard the quivering soul before they lock back onto Bray, “in the end your victory has costed you this.” Dark energy starts to swirl around the Undertaker. Dean’s soul flickers and twitches as the energy starts to surround it. And all at once the energy completely engulfs it and it gives one last anguished cry before it is gone, absorbed by the dark energy and pulled into the Undertaker’s body.

A choked cry leaves Bray as he falls to his knees. His heart is pounding in his chest, each beat sending a fresh wave of pain through him.

“No,” It was a whisper at first but it soon became a full scream as the Undertaker disappears and he is plunging down into a dark pit and being swallowed up by darkness, “Noo!”

-

Bray’s eyes fly open. He sits up sharply. His breath is ragged, chest heaving in an attempt to draw in oxygen. He looks around wildly finding himself in the motel room that he’d checked into earlier in the day. Hands come up to scrub over his face as realization hits him. It had all been a nightmare.

Bringing his hands down, Bray looks down to his right. The spot next to him is occupied by Dean, who is stretched out on his side, back to Bray, sleeping soundly. Bray sighs softly as the last bits of the nightmare fades from his mind. It had been a long time since he’d had a dream as unpleasant as that. The last time he actually remembers having one was the night when Abigail had took him in. Images of his father coming at him with a drunken sway and belt firmly in his hand had sent him panicking and screaming into Abigail's room. She had soothed and calmed him with sweet words and promised that he would be forever safe with her and his fears and nightmares had stopped. Until tonight. 

He gazes down at Dean, resisting only briefly before he is leaning down over the sleeping man. He reaches up, brushing the blond curls aside before pressing a gentle kiss to the others forehead. Dean shifts in his sleep, grumbling something that Bray didn’t understand. He scoots back slightly as if he was searching for Bray's presence.

“I’m here darlin’,” Bray whispers, wrapping his arms around Dean as he lays back down. He draws the other man closer burying his face in his blond hair, murmuring, “I’m here. I’ll always be here. You are safe little lamb.”

After a few moments Bray lifts his head, surprise showing in his eyes. His lantern, from where it was sitting on the other side of the room by their bags, was burning, casting a soft light out over the room, bathing all that it reached in its white light. A sense of calm settles over Bray as _she_ appears at the side of the bed. Her form is transparent, flickering ever so often but Bray could still see her clearly. She sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out, running fingertips along Dean’s cheek. She gazes at Dean for a moment before she looks at Bray.

“Abigail,” He breaths out, closing his eyes as she reaches out to lightly touch his cheek as she did to Dean.

“Fear not dearest,” Her voice is soft and soothing. It wraps over Bray like a comforting blanket, “I am watching over him just as I watch over you and the family. He will be safe.” Her last words are hinted with a finality that buries his dream completely.

He could still feel her presence, even after he opens his eyes to find the room once more in darkness. She was watching. Always. Bray wraps his arms tighter around Dean, burying his face back into blond curls letting Abigail’s words along with Dean’s presence lull him back to sleep.


End file.
